


when i spin away

by helloearthlings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, End of the World, Immortal Merlin, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apocalypse, the fires raining down around him, the screams of his fellow beings, they only signified one thing to Merlin.<br/>His life had been for nothing, his eternity a worthless waste of time and energy and heartbreak, because the earth was about to explode, be swallowed up by the sun, and Arthur was not there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i spin away

**Author's Note:**

> Pure, unadulterated angst.

The world was bathed in scarlet.

The scarlet of the blood splattered across the grass that used to glow green, of the gruesome splashes on the unrecognizably gray pavement. The steady drip from the body of the young woman with the plain brown hair and eyes that were once blue before their light faded.

The scarlet of the sun above the earth, the sun that once graced them with light, now exploded the world with an array of dancing colors, the heat and the light and everything at once coming down on them.

It was only fitting that such a beautiful sight would be humanity’s doom.

But perhaps it wasn’t Merlin’s doom, for sometimes he wasn’t even sure that the word human applied to him anymore.

Merlin liked the scarlet, he found with a rotten sense of humor; he liked it because it reminded him of long, flowing red capes and banners that were strung high in the streets of the place he hadn’t called home for centuries upon centuries.

The end of the world and Camelot was still a bright and eternal flame in the deepest recesses of his memory.

There were bodies strewn across the path Merlin walked down, and for once, he hadn’t put them there. This had nothing to do with him, and it was a relieving feeling.

Perverse, thy name is Merlin.

He chuckled at his own joke. He had not the capacity to feel bad, because when the world was coming to a close, why not make a few jokes to lighten the tension?

The apocalypse, the fires raining down around him, the screams of his fellow beings, they only signified one thing to Merlin.

His life had been for nothing, his eternity a worthless waste of time and energy and heartbreak, because the earth was about to explode, be swallowed up by the sun, and Arthur was not there.

Arthur was not there.

Merlin was going to be alone at the end of the world.

At least he was finally graced with the chance to die, to leave this wretched place behind, to have the possibility of endless sleep ahead of him.

He laughed because if he didn’t, he would cry. It was a self-preservation technique, one he had learned somewhere, sometime, so long ago he couldn’t recall. It was useful, though, and it helped him survive the day-to-day.

Not that today was an ordinary day. There was nothing about it that was ordinary. It was the end of the story, the last page. And Merlin, who had caught glimpses of the beginning and suffered through too much of the middle, would be forced to pull himself through to the very end.

A full circle, one that Merlin never wished for, never asked for, but it was one that he traveled nonetheless.

There was a noise, an overwhelmingly, ear-crushingly monster of a sound, and the rushing up and welling of Merlin’s magic was a fraction of a second too late. The explosion of flames and ash were rocketed him backwards, blowing his feet off the ground and bolting his eyes shut. It would have killed a man of normal stature, but normalcy was a term that was never applicable to Merlin.

He blew away; almost as if the wind was carrying him away to relative safety, when really, it was just Merlin keeping himself afloat for a moment later, until his mind’s eye took in his surroundings. It was just outside of a small town, one he didn’t know the name of; an entirely unforgettable place where he would meet his gruesome end.

There were fields of former green, now drenched with the blood of too many civilians, too many innocent beings. There were mountains in the near distance, rocky and steep and utterly beautiful, and if the universe was going to let Merlin die, he wanted it to be someplace peaceful, someplace that he could depart the world with a content heart.

As content as he could possibly make it, at the very least.

He let the fire slam him into the rock face, speeding up the reaper’s process in taking souls away. He did hope no one was caught in the crossfire, though. But if they were going to die anyway, then why not just get it over with instead of prolonging the inevitable?

Everyone died.

Everyone except Merlin. That was about to change, though.

When his back hit the impact, he didn’t even brace himself; he just let his body slide down the cliff. He was not a bloody, broken ragdoll of man, but still a whole, living, breathing one. Survival at its best and most effective.

The blood in the grass was not his own, but it was fresh and warm between his fingers. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling. It made him feel sick knowing that there was another’s innards seeping through his fingers. But there was something perversely comforting about it, as if he recognized the feeling, that this wasn’t ordinary blood, this was special blood, and this was blood he had seen before, felt before…

“Is someone up there?”

Merlin’s lungs constricted at the sound of the voice. It was achingly familiar, and it grated deep into his soul. He couldn’t believe it. No. No. _No._

“Hey, hey, mate, are you alright?”

There was suddenly a presence next to his own that Merlin hadn’t felt in so long, so very long and yet it tugged on his heartstrings as his breath hitched, tears in the corners of his eyes. “A-Arthur?”

“How do you know my name?” The man’s voice was not suspicious, just curious and perhaps slightly confused, and Merlin almost laughed at the incredulity of this. Just when he was certain there was no hope, none at all, and here he was, kneeling next to Merlin’s body that was suddenly so full of life that he could barely hold it in.

“Arthur,” he whispered, reveling in the sound the word made on his tongue. He pushed himself upwards, his eyes taking in the being just to his left.

He was just as Merlin remembered him. Blonde hair that shone in the sun, blue eyes sparkling with an unnamable entity that Merlin had always adored, broad shoulders and strong jaw and every other trait that Merlin had never quite appreciated before. He was beautiful and he was here and Merlin was going to start crying.

He lifted a hand up to touch the warm, breathing, skin that was so _there_ and in being and not a dream, not a nightmare, just right there in front of him. Merlin laughed because he was going to cry and old habits die hard.

Ha. Die. It was nice to see that his wit had survived this long with him.

“Hello,” Merlin said, because there wasn’t anything else to say. They had never said goodbye, but it seemed another hello was only proper. But then he remembered that he didn’t have to be proper, because it was the end of the world. “I missed you.”

“Did you hit your head?” Arthur said, he sounded so sarcastic and tetchy yet not without concern and Merlin’s heart burst, flooding him in emotion.

“Please remember me before we die,” Merlin thought his request was simple enough for the destiny and fate and everything in between to grant it to him. “Please, Arthur.”

“What do you –” Arthur began speaking and Merlin let the voice wash over him as he let it into every ounce of him. He stopped, though, suddenly, and Merlin looked at him expectantly. Something changed in Arthur’s eyes and suddenly, Merlin was not the only one in tears. “Oh – Oh. _Oh. Merlin._ ”

“Nice to see you can follow simple orders,” Merlin chuckled through the thick, falling tears as he reached up once more, hand on Arthur’s cheek. Arthur lifted up his own hand to keep Merlin’s there as he gazed down with unreserved wonder. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed and their bodies moved closer and closer until they were nearly intertwined with one another, locked in a tight embrace. “Merlin. You waited, didn’t you? You waited.”

“Until the stars burnt out,” Merlin laughed into Arthur’s shoulder. “Of course you took that long to come back to me. Of course.”

“I would have come,” Arthur said, his words thick and muffled on Merlin’s collarbone and Merlin absentmindedly stroked the back of his neck, saddened and yet overjoyed at the touch, at the intimacy of this moment, this moment that paralleled their last one. “I would have come if I’d known.”

“I know you would have,” Merlin murmured. And because it was their last chance, their very last chance, he finally uttered the words that had been true since the moment time began to the moment time would run out. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I love you, too.”

It was the end of the world and Merlin wasn’t going to die alone. 


End file.
